


Jasper Avenue

by littleireland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleireland/pseuds/littleireland
Summary: Sometimes it's best to pick up exactly where you left off.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Jasper Avenue

**Author's Note:**

> This short was inspired by the song Jasper Avenue by CaRter. All mistakes are my own!

The ancient grandfather clock on the wall strikes seven in the evening just as the back of Harry’s front door collides with the wall. He tosses his coat on the hallway table and hangs his keys on the coat rack before noticing his mistake. 

He rolls his eyes and switches them with a mental, _fuck_ _me._

That’s when the ringing starts, high and whiny, from in his kitchen. He curses the day he brought home the rotary landline. He’d wanted one simply because he’d never been permitted to use Aunt Petunia’s. He can still picture her now sitting cross-legged on the chaise lounge in the hallway, a cup of earl grey in one hand, a cigarette between two manicured fingers, and the phone pinched between her shoulder and cheek. Though, she’d never let Uncle Vernon or the girls know about her habit. Harry had only seen her light one up a handful of times.

The phone chirrups again as Harry walks heavy-legged down the hall. When he sees the phone ringing the way phones do, he stares at it long and hard. He’s really not in the mood to talk to anyone and really, it can’t be anyone good. Hardly any of his wizarding friends own a phone.  _ What’s the use?  _ Ron had said. Harry doesn’t know really, he just likes the  _ look _ of the plastic,  _ ringing _ thing. 

A pot of tea goes on and the ringing finally ceases. Harry really isn’t in the mood for a telemarketer that has bought his information off some service he was foolish enough to put his new phone number into.

His flat is stale and empty.

_ Just like me. _

Two cups of tea later Harry pulls himself up from the sofa and opts to start his weekend with a hot shower. That always makes him feel better. Not that he feels bad.

Steam fills his once cozy, overcrowded bathroom that now just feels too big. He wipes his eyes three times before he realizes he’s left his thick-rimmed glasses on. His curls plaster to his forehead and lick down to the bottom of his nose. Harry removes his glasses and sighs, tempted to let his mind wander. It’s risky, but things have just been so  _ different _ since-

_ Ring! _

Harry moans aloud. “I just want a goddamned second,” he grits out. Deep down, he’s thankful for the interruption. There’s no telling how many bottles of firewhisky he was about to think himself to the bottom of.

His shower is finished sooner than Harry originally planned. He lets the phone ring a few more times before the blessed voicemail machine picks it up for him. Radio silence fills the space as droplets from Harry’s hair land on his feet.

Precious silence.

_ Ring!! _

Annoyance fills Harry until it threatens to roll out in puffs of steam from his ears. He yanks a shirt and pair of underwear onto his body before stomping back into the kitchen. He rips the phone from the base with a growled, “What  _ is _ it?”

Harry hears a sharp inhale from the receiver and thinks for a second that he ought to be more polite to someone who’s just doing their job. Hell, with the luck he’s had lately, he’s just about finished with politeness.

“I’m hanging up.” And Harry does. He slams the receiver down just in time for-

_ Ring!!! _

Harry takes a deep breath, in and out, before wringing out his shoulders and lifting the phone to his face. “Hello?”

“Good evening, Harry,” a deep, silky voice says.

Harry nearly drops the phone and has to grip the counter to stay upright as his knees suddenly grow weak. A flood of memories crashes violently inside him. 

“I can’t talk to you,” Harry says automatically. “Draco, I can’t.”

_ “Draco, I can’t,” Harry says, a smile on his face. “Work, remember?” _

_ “Sure you can,” the blonde purrs, kissing his way up Harry’s abdomen, his palm pressed flat against Harry’s straining bulge. “Sick days, remember?” _

_ They’ve been seeing each other, fucking each other, getting to know each other, the past six months and even still, this time feels just as good as the first. Harry loves how Draco’s things have slowly found their way to his flat in London, he loves how it feels like Draco has always been here, he loves how  _ right _ this feels. _

“Harry, please,” Draco whispers. “I need…” The phone goes silent.

“Hello?” Harry prompts, his heart beating painfully. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d answer,” Draco exhales raggedly. “It took me forever to figure out how to work this-” A sigh. “I got a phone.”

_ “I got a phone,” Harry smiles, setting the package on the counter. _

_ “What in Merlin’s name is a phone?” Draco asks, eyeing Harry. _

_ “You’ll love it. It’s much quicker than an owl. Anyone who has my number can dial it on the phone and talk to me.” _

_ Draco raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. “That sounds terrible.” Harry doesn’t miss the subtle spark of intrigue in Draco’s eyes. “So what is your number? 1?” _

_ Harry laughs, deep and loud, causing a tinge of scarlet to blush Draco’s pale cheeks. “No, silly.” _

This is too much for Harry and deep in the pit of his stomach, he knows this conversation as short as it is, has set him back weeks. Draco left his flat in a bitter, devastating fury exactly one month ago. 

“Draco,” Harry breathes. “This hurts too much.”

“I have to tell you,” Draco says suddenly.

_ “I have to tell you,” Harry murmurs against Draco’s jawline.  _

_ “Tell me what?” Draco tilts his head back. His large hands cup Harry’s backside and haul him in closer until they’re flush. “Tell me anything.” _

_ Butterflies ignite in Harry’s stomach at Draco’s unguarded and open face. His eyes are so grey and deep. They pierce his soul with every glance. His lips are so pink and full. Harry could kiss them forever. The way Draco’s fingers intertwine perfectly with his cause his heart to stutter. The thought of all this going away hurts Harry to the core. _

_ He pulls back and looks at Draco squarely. “I don’t want this to disappear, Draco.” _

_ The blond’s eyebrows crook softly. “What do you mean?” _

_ “I mean, I want this,” Harry says earnestly, “I want this all the time. I want you,  _ all the time.”

“No,” Harry stops him. His knuckles are bone-white against the counter and he swears he can’t feel his fingers. “Please don’t say it.” Harry wants to scream when he feels the treacherous stinging wetness in his eyes.

This hurt too damn much the first time and Harry is sure he won’t survive it the second. He knows he scared Draco, but he also knows he told the truth. He  _ did _ want him.

“I made a mistake, Harry,” Draco says softly. Harry squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on Draco’s voice coming through the receiver. “I don’t want this to disappear.”

Harry’s heart lurches in his chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want this,” Draco breathes. “If you let me in, I promise to tell you the rest.”

_ Knock, knock! _

  
  



End file.
